-by MOTHER

Well, this weekend I decided it was time to get up and do something active, instead of sitting around feeling crummy. I really, really need to get out of this rut I've been all summer. So I reviewed the options open to me and conclude that what I really wanted to do was para-glide. Now I know there aren't many cliffs or high points here in the flat Midwest, but we do have a water tower in town right behind the grocery store. So, I got dressed up in my bicycle shorts and sports bra (but the way, do you know how to repair a broken shoehorn?), buckled into the harness, loaded the parachute on my back and climbed to the top of the water tower. I had arranged with my mother-in-law to drive the tow-car. She had a little bit of a hard time seeing over the top of the steering wheel, but she's pretty game for an 88-year-old. With one end of the towrope tied to the rear bumper, and the other end hooked to my belt, I waved her off. Of course, she couldn't see me clearly, what with the cataracts and all, so I gave a yell and another yell and another yell, until the cars backed up behind her in the grocery store parking lot started honking real loud and she took off with a jerk. I deployed my parachute and was soaring!!! I was maybe 40, 50 feet off the ground when a breeze caught me. I detached the towline, just as my mother-in-law hit the fire hydrant. And I must been flying really high, 'cause I hardly got wet from the gusher at all. So there I was, sailing over town, the wind at my command, just like a balloon in the Thanksgiving's Day parade, looking down on the groundlings. I soared, I swooped, I did jelly rolls (is that what they call them?). I played tag with the butterflies and hung a louie off the steeple of a church. I was really getting into it, when gravity asserted its claim on my corporal self. I realized I was losing altitude. I was frantically looking for a likely place to land when I felt a jolt and heard a rip. I had wedged myself in the notch of the W of the big red Walgreen's sign. My head and shoulders had passed through it, but my hips got stuck. Slowly the whole parachute settled over me, and I hung there like a punctured balloon. Well, let me tell you, I was snookered. The more I twisted and turned, the tighter I became wedged and the more muffled up in the parachute. The W was pinching my waist and the cords of the chute were cutting into my arms and legs. I yelled and flailed but to no avail. I could hear a crowd forming and laughing at me!!! Laughing!! That's how they treat the adventurous in this narrow-minded small town!!! After a while - what seemed like an awfully long while, I heard sirens. A fire engine pulled up, extended the ladder and a big guy in slicker and boots edged out along it until he was even with my trussed up body. Now this was not a case for the Jaws of Life, I was just twisted up in a bunch of nylon. But, apparently, fire engines don't carry scissors. The fire chief ended up working the crowd trying to mooch a pair. Eventually, a Boy Scout volunteered a Swiss army knife with a scissors folded into it, and the fireman was able to begin the job of rescuing me. Do you have any ides how long it takes to cut apart a parachute with a one-inch nail scissors? Well, you know of course, it started to rain, water dripping into my eyes and nose from the gullies of the twisted nylon. Guess what? The dyes in the chute weren't color fast, and as I hung there, marinating in all the colors of the rainbow, the poor fireman stood on his ladder, doggedly snipping away at the cords and wiping rain drops off his eye glasses. When the chute was finally cut away, the fireman started tugging at my arms, to pull me lose, but I was stuck fast. He tried shoving me back through the W, but that didn't work either. A second fireman came up the ladder and side by side they tugged and pushed and tugged some more. No luck.. Finally, they gave up, scurried down to the street, and held a hurried conference with their chief. I watched them whispering, nodding their heads, shaking their heads, whispering some more. They got on their radio and talked, through all I heard was the static snapping and popping. Finally they gave a shout and high-fived all around. I looked down the street, and there came a construction crane from a building site up the block!! They hooked it into my flight harness, hauled me up and out of the notch. Loud cheers broke out among the crowd as I was lowered to the pavement, and, I swear, I blushed as red as the Walgreen's sign, in those places where I wasn't tie-dyed from the parachute. So I spent all day today scrubbing the dye off various parts of my body and thinking that maybe I should find some other way to keep myself entertained If you've got any suggestions, let me know. I'm eager to hear them...